


Page One Rewrite

by thedoubteriswise



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, M/M, Movie Night, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, bucky's love language is acts of service, in a manner of speaking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 08:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19826224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedoubteriswise/pseuds/thedoubteriswise
Summary: World War II enthusiasts and film geeks rejoice! Much like the Sentinel of Liberty himself, a few reels of missing Cap footage have been brought back to life.





	Page One Rewrite

> **RARE CAPTAIN AMERICA FOOTAGE UNCOVERED!**
> 
> World War II enthusiasts and film geeks rejoice! Much like the Sentinel of Liberty himself, a few reels of missing Cap footage have been brought back to life.
> 
> For nearly 50 years, it seemed that all original footage of Captain America had been lost. Although the Star-Spangled Man appeared in dozens of newsreels and propaganda shorts, as well as two full-length feature films, copies of these rarities became increasingly hard to find over the years.  
> 
> 
> After Steve Rogers’ apparent death in 1945, The War Department retired all Captain America films, leaving the reels to gather dust in government warehouses. In 1955, huge quantities of “irrelevant” files from World War II were purged as part of routine records maintenance. Unfortunately, Cap’s films fell under that description in the eyes of the recently-renamed Department of Defense. The red scare was in full swing, and many historians believe that the films’ tone and content was considered subversive by the increasingly right-wing military intelligence community. A few surviving communications regarding their disposal describe them as “dangerously collectivistic."
> 
> Even after this mass destruction, a few hardcore fans and movie buffs held onto their celluloid treasures. Eventually, every remaining copy of the surviving Captain America films wound up in the hands of his biggest fan: John K. Werner.
> 
> If that name rings a bell, it’s probably not because you know him as a voracious collector of Cap memorabilia. Werner made his name as the founder and CEO of Werner Chemicals, a multi-billion dollar corporation that produced a significant portion of the chemical and biological weapons used during the Vietnam War. Unsurprisingly, Werner and his company were highly controversial and often targeted by anti-war activists. In 1970, Werner was killed in a fire that consumed most of his home. Individuals close to Werner initially claimed that his death was murder, suggesting that his detractors may have resorted to arson. Police investigation later revealed that the fire had indeed been accidental - ironically, the blaze began with an overheated vintage film projector.
> 
> Unfortunately, the fire also destroyed Werner’s massive collection of Captain America posters, comic books, trading cards, toys, games, and films. It was a devastating loss for Cap fans, as Werner had promised to have the reels copied and distributed for viewing in theaters by 1974. Now, the movies were lost forever.
> 
> Until three months ago. On March 27th, Dr. Peter Goldbaum of Brooklyn, New York passed away at the age of 98. Dr. Goldbaum was a World War II veteran, a great-grandfather, and an accomplished pediatrician who held his own practice for 50 years. He was also a passionate collector of obscure films.
> 
> When his granddaughter Linda Ackerman went to clean out his home, the most daunting room in the house was the “movie theater.” Goldbaum had turned the extra bedroom of his charming prewar brownstone into a home theater, complete with an old-fashioned projector.
> 
> “The room was full to the ceiling with old reels,” says Ackerman. “If it had been a stranger’s house, I’d probably think they were crazy. But it was all very organized, everything was in perfect order.”
> 
> Ackerman admits her first instinct was to throw it all away. “It was overwhelming,” She says. “There were thousands of films, and it was hard to think about going through them all without him. But I realized he’d never forgive me if I treated his collection like junk. Even if nobody else thought it was worth anything, it was never junk to him.”
> 
> After a few days going through the reels and matching them up to Goldbaum’s meticulous card catalog, Ackerman made an unbelievable discovery.
> 
> “When I saw the label on it, I figured it had to be a mistake, or an old case with a different movie inside… I knew this wasn’t supposed to exist anymore.”  
> 
> 
> Inside a dented storage case was a complete, pristine copy of “Cap Takes Command,” the first of the two full-length films starring Steve Rogers.
> 
> For collectors of World War II ephemera and 1940s media, “Cap Takes Command” is the holy grail. Filmed just a few months after Rogers began appearing in USO shows as Captain America, it contains the only surviving footage of Rogers during the war.
> 
> “This is an incredible find,” says Dr. Roberta Walker, Professor of Film Studies at Columbia University. “Although the film is artistically clumsy in the way of most propaganda, it offers us a fascinating look at what wartime audiences were seeing and helps add context for the influence of Captain America on 20th century pop culture.”
> 
> Dr. Walker describes the film as a “charming and optimistic” example among 1940s propaganda pieces.
> 
> “The tone of the film is… cheesy, there’s no other word for it,” she laughs. “The budget wasn’t high, it’s very much a product of its time, and it’s clear that Captain Rogers was new to acting, although I’m sure he did his best. But there’s something very earnest about the message… The purpose seems to be developing a sense of camaraderie, rather than to encourage hatred of the enemy. It’s an interesting direction for a World War II film.”
> 
> Much of Dr. Goldbaum’s collection will be released to the public domain, including “Cap Takes Command.” His family is working with Columbia University to offer public access to this and other films.
> 
> We were unable to reach Steve Rogers for comment, but we did get in touch with his long-time second in command, Sergeant James “Bucky” Barnes. Barnes agreed to be quoted as saying, “That [expletive] garbage should have burned with the rest of it, but have your fun, I guess.” We hope Sergeant Barnes will forgive us for disagreeing.

***

Steve has had worse days. He’s had an overwhelming number of days significantly worse than this one. This is up there, though.

“Oh man, I can’t wait to see this.” Sam is glowing with vindictive glee the way he always does when he discovers something he’s never going to let Steve live down.

Natasha’s smile is more contained, but just as malicious. “My top movie night choice for sure.”

“Please, no,” Steve says. “I am really not a good actor.”

“Wow, yeah, big shock,” Sam snorts. “Why the hell else do you think we want to watch it?”

“I thought you guys liked me.”

“Meh.” Natasha shrugs.

“I know how bad it’s gonna be. I cannot wait to see how bad it’s gonna be,” Sam says wistfully, still beaming like a kid on Christmas.

“God, you’re really underestimating how racist it is,” Steve groans.

“I bet I’m not.”

“No, really, I think working on it gave me an ulcer. I fought with the director  _ daily _ . I think the only thing that stopped him from punching me was the expense of the extra makeup they’d need if I had bruises.” He sighs. “At least I talked him down from making the Asian guy wear fake fangs.”

Natasha’s eyebrows go up. “Fangs? What the hell kind of stereotype is that?”

“It isn’t one, unless you’re currently at war with Japan.”

“I remember that from the comics,” Sam nods. “Fucked up.”

“Yeah, so let’s watch absolutely anything else.”

“Oh no, I still want to see you go full Shatner. I’m willing to make sacrifices.”

Natasha looks at him critically. “But seriously, Steve, I do have one question.”

He sighs. “What?”

“On a scale of ‘one’ to ‘put a bullet in the barrel of your best guy’s gun,’ how accidentally homoerotic is the dialogue?”

“Jesus,” Steve grumbles.

***

The Soldier has several options for how to carry out this mission. His handler gave him choices. He doesn’t remember having done this before, but he knows how. The maintenance and operation of weapons feels as natural as breathing. If someone speaks to him, the language is rarely unfamiliar, a perfectly-pronounced response leaving his lips without hesitation. He doesn’t know where he learned these things and doesn’t wonder. He knows his purpose is missions, even though he can’t remember them. But choices - something itching in the base of his skull tells him that’s a rare luxury.

The target is known to stay up late in his study. The Soldier knows that the building is equipped with a state of the art security system, the new kind that can detect motion. He finds those inconvenient, but the target is alone tonight and the Soldier has already disabled the phone lines. If the alarm is triggered, the effort of terminating a target who knows he’s being chased will be negligible.

He stalks the perimeter of the property, looking for signs of other security measures that may limit his options. Initial intelligence included no mention of bodyguards or dogs, but the dossiers he receives have been wrong before. He doesn’t remember any instance of this being the case, but he knows it’s true.

There are no motion lights and no pets, not even the small, noisy kind. A single lamp is on in the study and the target is still awake, his bleached-blond hair clearly visible in the window. The Soldier could shoot him from here and finish the mission without even entering the house.

The Soldier observes the target for a few minutes. He’s watching a film using an old projector, black and white images moving across a screen like the shadows of leaves on a breezy summer afternoon.

Movies. The Soldier remembers movies. With a sudden, dangerous swoop of longing and pleasure, he remembers something he knows has never happened to him, his nose filling with the smell of warm popcorn with butter and his skin recalling the brush of threadbare velvet seats. The Soldier has never seen a movie. He knows this just as surely as he knows the feeling of a bony shoulder nudging against him, as surely as he knows the sound of the crowd laughing.

He quickly feels sick with panic, breathing slowly to dismiss the strange flood. Emotions are evidence of suboptimal function. It’s important that his handlers do not find out that he experienced them, as he finds the maintenance that follows emotional responses unpleasant. He doesn’t remember having undergone any maintenance, but he knows it hurts.

There is no reason not to shoot the target from here and return to base.

The Soldier enters the house instead, creeping up the stairs as silently as the beginning of a dream. He approaches the east wing of the house. He’s a few feet from the study now, but there’s another open door to his right that catches his attention.

There is no reason to look inside. The house is empty except for the target.

The Soldier pauses, then steps silently into the room. He won’t turn on any lights and risk alerting the target, but there’s some light seeping in from the study. He blinks a few times, adjusting to the darkness. Thousands of red, white and blue tchotchkes bleed into view.

What the fuck, the Soldier thinks.

He moves slowly, examining the bizarre collection. He pauses in front of a bookcase filled with what appear to be little dolls of blond-haired men in brightly-colored tac gear. The target is an adult man living in a society where dolls are considered an item for little girls, so the Soldier is confused by this. Perhaps the target has a daughter or other young girl living in the house with him.

A few feet over, there are additional shelves filled with comic books and magazines. A few particular issues are displayed in plastic frames instead of being lined up with the spines out. The comic book placed at eye level shows the man in the stupid tac gear fighting a swarm of faceless enemies. By his side is a smaller man with dark hair and an even more impractical outfit. It’s really more of a costume for a circus performer than anything you would wear in a war.

The Soldier stares. He remembers something. What does he remember? Why does his stomach feel twisted and angry?

I don’t look like that, the Soldier thinks, before wondering why he should. The man in the circus costume isn’t meant to be him. There is something familiar about the blond man, though. Who is he?

He looks around the room again. His eye lands on a framed movie poster. “Cap Takes Command.”

_ And you always said I’d be the movie star. _

A memory. It sounds like his own voice, but with an accent he doesn’t have.

_ Jesus, I wish you were. Better you with a quarter inch of pancake makeup than me, pal. _

_ What, on this face? Please. _

_ You’re right, a quarter inch isn’t enough. _

_ Ahh, fuck off Stevie. _

It hurts. His whole body aches with it. He doesn’t want the memory to be over, but it is, the tail end flapping like a reel the projectionist forgot to change.

He has a mission. The memory is a temporary malfunction. He will submit to maintenance when he returns to base.

When he finally makes his way into the study, the target is dozing with the movie still on. The Soldier stands behind him, watching.

It’s the same man in the film, the man with the golden hair and the colorful suit. He looks very young and very beautiful. He’s acting, or at least trying to, but there’s something awkward and embarrassed in his movements, something ashamed in his eyes. The Soldier watches, gripped with the sensation that he’s  _ allowed _ to see this, but that no one else should.

The beautiful man in the ridiculous suit doesn’t want to be looked at like this. The Soldier knows the way he knows how to pick a lock or speak Cantonese - deeply, instinctively, with no memory of learning it.

_ They found the wrong guy for this job. _

_ Come on, you did all right. _

_ Don’t lie to me, Buck. You’re bad at it. _

_ I’m not lying! _

_ Stop it. _

_ I’m an honest guy! Just because I might be a little biased-- _

_ Just a little. _

_ It sells war bonds, doll. That’s the point, right? _

_ Yeah. I still hope they burn all these fucking things when the war’s over. _

The Soldier’s eyes are drawn to the projector like a magnet. The film is old and scratched. It’s not modern safety film, it’s celluloid.  


Celluloid in a 30 year old projector, left running in a room filled with books and papers and carpeting so thick it feels like walking on the back of a giant furry animal.  


No one will bother to investigate. It will be very obvious what happened.

The Soldier pulls a lighter from his pocket. As far as the beautiful young man is concerned, the war is over.

He stands in the trees outside the mansion and watches the building burn, making sure the target doesn’t escape or get rescued. Most of the house is engulfed in flames by the time the fire department arrives.

The Soldier makes his way back to base. He requires maintenance.

***

“Why do you have a coffee mug shaped like a butt?” Wanda frowns. Her socked feet are tucked under her on the sofa and she’s twisted around to talk to Steve, who is standing in the kitchen sorting through the mail.

Steve glances at his coffee. “Bucky gave it to me.”

“I think my question was less ‘why do you have it’ and more ‘why is it a butt.’”

Steve starts to say “I don’t know” at the same time Bucky shouts “It’s because he loves bottoms!” from the bedroom.

Steve sighs. “Thanks, Buck.”

“You’re welcome!”

He rolls his eyes. “Wanda?”

“Hm?”

“You know how I’m always saying you should learn from my mistakes?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t recommend getting married.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”  


Bucky wanders back into the living room. “Stop giving the poor kid bad advice, Steve.”

“My advice is famous for being good, actually.”

“Who’s gonna buy her tasteful novelty items if she doesn’t get hitched?”

“Ah, fuck.” Steve grimaces at the mail pile.

“What?”

He plucks the expensive-looking envelope from the mess of coupons and junk mail and looks at it the way most people look at the inside of a fridge that needed cleaning six months ago. He doesn’t open it, so Bucky takes it, flipping it over to see the return address.

“Columbia University?”

“It’s like they’re mocking me.”

“It’s addressed to both of us, you’re not special.” Bucky rips into the envelope and pulls out a delicately gilded card. “Blah blah blah, request the pleasure of your company, yada yada, film screening and celebration…” He frowns for a second. “Columbia University is inviting us to get dressed up and eat something unbelievably overpriced while watching an 80 year old movie of you running around in long underwear, is what I’m hearing.”

Steve groans. “Why is this happening to me? I’m a good person, right?”

“The best, sweetheart.”

Wanda has hit critical mass and can no longer contain herself. Steve’s just grateful it’s only her witnessing this indignity and not Sam or Natasha.

“I can’t even blame that weird cryptofacist who hoarded my merchandise, because this was all the fault of a nice little 98 year old Jewish pediatrician,” Steve huffs.

“I know,” Bucky sighs.

“If you can’t trust a nice little 98 year old Jewish pediatrician, who the fuck can you trust, I ask you?”

“So are we going, or what?”

Steve glares at the invitation. “Absolutely not.”

“Maybe you should ask that publicist who works for Tony,” Wanda pipes up.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Steve grumbles.

“You’re just scared she’ll say you have to go.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m scared of.”

Bucky smiles and wraps his arms around Steve’s middle. “You look real cute when you get shy, you know that?

“Don’t even try it.”

“Look at him, Red. Isn’t he sweet?”

“Leave me out of your mating dance.”

“These god damn things weren’t supposed to exist anymore,” Steve mutters, trying to maintain his pissy mood even though Bucky’s doing his best to nuke it from orbit.

Bucky grins and kisses his ear, and he knows it’s a losing battle. “I tried, baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> A "page one rewrite" is when a movie script is so completely unusable that it must be rewritten from scratch.
> 
> I can't tell you how much I wish I was joking about WWII-era comic books including Asian characters with fangs. As someone who's slogged through a lot of very old comics, I can tell you that the 1940s were a special flavor of racist nightmare.
> 
> [Old-fashioned film](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Film_stock) made with cellulose nitrate was famous for being flammable as hell. Safety film made from cellulose triacetate was introduced in the 1930s, but the American film industry didn't transition entirely to the new kind of stock until the early 1950s.
> 
>   
> Thanks as always to Lu for making sure this was coherent and offering moral support. I hope you guys appreciate the fact that you wouldn't be reading anything I write without her.
> 
> This fic is rebloggable/retweetable on [Tumblr](https://thedoubteriswise.tumblr.com/post/186318454244/page-one-rewrite-stevebucky-t-3k), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/thedoubteriswi1/status/1150952934793834496), and [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/752816).


End file.
